


Books on a Shelf

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: Grownup Love [1]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Adulthood, F/M, Good Choices, Graduation, Jess is perfect, Literati (Gilmore Girls), True Love, better choices, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With graduation looming, Rory thinks about her future, realizes Logan isn't a part of it and calls an old friend for advice. Turning to the person who knows her best, she looks to Jess to help her figure out her life. Things change; people grow up. It's a story of young love lost and maturity found. </p><p>Set after Will You Be My Lorelai.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE 

She looked over her notes. She had only a few months left. This was usually the exciting time, the time she looked forward to as a student: spring semester. It was cold and snowy, because it was February, but it was still spring semester. And this was her final spring semester. It would be topped off by her final finals and graduation. It should have been amazing.

But, Logan was acting out again. The media company acquisition was ill thought-out. The trip to Las Vegas was just outright stupid and, as she studied, Rory tried to picture her life ahead. Logan wasn’t in it. He didn’t have a role in her future. Rory thought that would make her sad, make her cry. It didn’t. And the fact that it didn’t make her cry almost made her sadder. 

She called Paris, she tried to talk as Paris just preached about chauvinism and the problem with men in general. Paris helped her move her stuff back into their apartment. They hugged, made up and made study guides. 

Logan was still in high spirits when he came back. Well, he was still marinated in spirits. He talked about getting on the straight and narrow. Rory met him at the airport, not wanting him to see their half empty apartment. She didn’t agree to go to the bar with him, instead she said, “Let’s just go out for pizza.” She broke up with him quietly, not wanting a scene. He always enjoyed a scene but he didn’t like letting himself be seen as the butt of it. He pulled out a ring box and opened it wordlessly as she felt herself tearing up and said, “Logan, no. I’m sorry: no.” She put too much money on the table, covering his drink and the food. She didn’t want him to have to pay for being dumped. “Logan, it’s over. I moved back in with Paris. I’m sorry.”

She left fast and went home, stopping at the kiosk for coffee, to Paris who took one look at her and said, “I wrote a new study schedule, the old one wasn’t good enough. Pizza and Chinese food is on the way.” Rory held out one of the coffees. “How did it go?”

“He produced an engagement ring,” said Rory. “I felt badly for him.” Paris glanced at her hand, “No, Paris, tears and a ring did not sway my decision.”

“Well, you let emotions rule you sometimes,” said Paris.

“Not this time,” said Rory. “This time, I just thought about my future and what I really wanted.”

“Good girl,” said Paris. “We need to get our lives in order to really get the most out of this semester.”

***

CHAPTER ONE

She started to get scared, as the semester wore on and she got more and more rejection letters. Her mother kept telling her it would be fine because she was awesome. Her grandparents were angry that she dumped Logan without their permission and were unwilling to discuss anything but that. Paris was freaking out over grad school.

Feeling truly overwhelmed, Rory called the person who knew her best. He picked up with a, “Yeah, this is Jess.”

“It’s me,” said Rory. Then, worried that he wouldn’t recognize her voice and would hurt her by asking who she was, she added, “Rory.”

“Rory,” he said and she could hear his smile, “I know your voice. How are you?”

“I’m good, no I’m not. How are you?” she asked. 

“I’m actually good — no modifier. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just don’t know what I’m doing; I’m panicking. I keep getting rejected from newspapers. I’m freaking out. Mom keeps saying I’m awesome, Paris is just as stressed out waiting to hear from med schools and law schools.”

“What about Logan? I know you don’t want to use the connection but does he have any ideas?”

“We broke up.”

“Oh,” said Jess. “When?”

She shrugged and realized he couldn’t see her, “A couple of months ago… I didn’t call you because I didn’t want you to think that you’re backup, or to imply that you’re not with someone or that you would care… well, of course you care because you care about me but… what am I going to do?”

“Have you considered going back to him? Prostitution is a really ugly word,” said Jess, “I mean, it wouldn’t have to be that long. You just need the job then you can ditch him.” Rory started to laugh. “There we go; was searching for the laugh. You’re gonna be okay. You’re going to keep applying to everything, you’re not going to get complacent or lose hope. If all else fails, you could be an intern here. It’s not much, but it’s something. So, Paris applied for med school and law school? Fill me in, Gilmore, that sounds hilarious.” 

They talked, catching up, laughing, for the first time in weeks she felt like she could breathe. At almost one she said, “You have got to get up for your grownup job and I have an early study group. Thank you, Jess. Jess,” she paused, “I didn’t call you before because you were never a second choice.”

“Gilmore, get some sleep. I’ll talk to you soon. Call me anytime, especially if Paris finally explodes. I missed your voice.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said. 

“Night, Ror,” he said.

“Night, Jess, thank you.”

It became a pattern. Every night, either she or he called. They talked about life, about work at Truncheon Books and school. They talked about Luke and her mom. 

She told her mom about it and her mom went quiet. “He isn’t the same boy who broke my heart. But he is the same boy I always knew.”

“I just worry, sweets.”

“Mom, he grew up, I grew up and you grew up too. He was not a great boyfriend but — short of running off to California — he wasn’t a bad one. You never liked him because he wasn’t Dean and he wanted to see me naked. Dean convinced me it was okay to cheat on his wife and I am at the point in my life wherein I like it when people see me naked. He was rude to you when you first met and you were condescending to him when he was hurt and sad and a stranger. Neither of you ever gave each other a chance. I like talking to him; I missed talking to him and he’s always known me, my mind, my heart. I’m happy about this. Be happy for me.”

Her mom was quiet, clearly think, maybe reflecting on the years, “Just don’t let him talk you into robbing a bank.”

“I talked Logan into stealing a boat, generally I’m not the one getting talked into stuff.” That made her mom laugh. “The only thing he ever talked me into was going back to Yale.”

“He did?” asked her mom. Rory had forgotten that they’d been estranged at the time. They’d never talked about the night she decided to go back.

“He came, one night, to show me he’d published a book. He was so excited and he wanted to share that excitement with me. And he met Logan, was thrown by my even associating with him. He was angry at me, not about Logan, about my life. He looked me right in the eye and said, ‘What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?’ And he looked so disappointed, so confused. I didn’t have an answer for him. He was right. So, I reenrolled. Everything you tried to do by cutting me out, everything Grandma and Grandpa tried to do by being supportive, everything Logan tried to do by keeping me busy — none of it had as much of an impact as Jess’ shock. He was right. He said once that he always knew we were supposed to be together. I think we were always out of step. We were never both at the same place at the same time.”

“And you think you are now?” asked her mom. It was a gentle tone, no judgment or censure in the words.

“Right now, I’m just really happy to have him in my life, even as a voice on a phone. Jess makes my life better,” she said. Then they moved on to news of the town, home and life.

For six weeks, Rory and Jess talked everyday about art and books and good coffee. They talked about their days, friends and lives. It made her feel happy even as she continued to get rejections. She knew that, every time she opened an envelope, she would at least be able to talk about it with Jess. 

Freaking out about a test one night, she told him she needed to cram on the Franco-Prussian War, “It’s Friday night, I am exhausted and I need to study. Grandma is still so angry about Logan and I just need to pass this test. It was the worst Friday night dinner since… well, the worst in a long time. They aren’t always fun, but they usually aren’t that bad.”

“It was over three months ago,” he said, “She isn’t over it yet?”

“She really wanted a Gilmore/Huntzberger alliance,” Rory said. “It didn’t matter to her that it was toxic. To her this is a business deal. And he is still sending candy grams, and bards and jewelry. And all of it is distracting me. I just need to study.” 

She could hear his smile as he said, “Okay, start and finish dates?”

“July nineteenth of eighteen seventy to May tenth of the following year,” she responded quickly. 

“And what happened on August forth?”

“Um… the Germans crossed into Alsace,” she replied. 

“Who was the Prussian Chancellor at the time?”

“Otto von Bismarck.”

“And what empire came crashing down because of the war?”

“The French Second Empire,” she replied. 

“How did the Prussians keep their numbers up?”

“Conscription,” said Rory

“And who led the French Second Empire?”

“Napoleon Sandwiches,” she said.

“If you aren’t joking, you need a good night’s sleep,” he said with a laugh. “I can’t tell because your voice is slightly slurred. It’s Friday, you have all weekend to study.”

“Shouldn’t you be out? It’s Friday night.” 

“No, I’m rereading Mark Twain’s letters,” he said, “Why go out with friends when you can stay in with one and not wear pants?”

“Now there’s a question for the ages. The Thomas Jefferson Snodgrass letters too?”

“Obviously, they’re his early forays into the vernacular tone. Not reading the Snodgrass letters is like going to the bathroom in CBGB: you’re missing a large part of the picture.”

She laughed, “I’m glad you’re back in my life, even if it’s only your voice. Were you just asking the study questions off the top of your head?”

“I’d love to come for a tour. I could be more than a voice on the phone,” he said, not answering how he knew anything about the Franco-Prussian War.

“Well, I actually have a quiet week, after my test on Tuesday, I mean. I have some classes but no papers until a first draft due Friday. I don’t even have class on Wednesday. We could hang out.”

“I can come?” he sounded pleased.

“I would love that,” said Rory.

“I will see you Tuesday afternoon.”

She hit the end call button and went out to the living room where Paris was in her craft corner, “Jess is coming to visit.”

“Our Jess?” asked Paris, clearly calling him “our” in reference to the times they hung out in high school. 

“He’s not your Jess,” said Rory, not thinking, still dazed by the fact that he was coming. 

“Is he your Jess?” asked Paris, looking surprised.

“I don’t know… I’ve missed him. We’ve been talking recently. He’s coming Tuesday, after my test.”

“Why?” asked Paris, sounding both irritated and smug — only Paris could pull off the combinations. 

“Just for a visit,” said Rory.

“A visit to your lady parts?”

Rory sighed, unsure, “We have to scrub this apartment and the kitchen.”

“We don’t use the kitchen,” said Paris. 

“But Jess likes to cook,” said Rory.

“So, Jess is sleeping here and making you breakfast?” said Paris. “Will he make me breakfast too?” 

“Paris, please, this is Jess. Help me clean.” 

Sighing, she said, “Fine, but we never did this for Logan or Doyle.”

“Logan was rarely here and Doyle lives here. He’s my Jess,” said Rory, “help me.” 

It took four hours of scrubbing. It should have taken longer but they got into a silent competition. When they were done Paris said, “Okay, we can’t mess it up until after he leaves.” 

“I should go to bed: I’m exhausted, but I’m going to call Mom.”

“Of course you are,” said Paris. 

Rory went back to her room, with its newly vacuumed carpet, and sat on her bed. She dialed the landline, aware of the minutes on her cell phone, she’d been using her cell phone to talk to Jess and it was piling up. Her mom picked up saying, “Sweets?”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, Rory, that dinner was hellish. How is studying?”

“Jess started quizzing me off the top of his head. Sometimes he scares me with how smart he is,” said Rory.

“Well, he always was a smarty,” conceded her mom.

“He’s coming to visit me after my test on Tuesday.”

“Visit?” asked her mom.

“I’m really excited,” said Rory. “Paris and I cleaned the apartment.”

“Right, because Jess Mariano is a man who really prizes a clean house.”

“We got pretty competitive; our apartment has never been this clean,” said Rory. “The roomba got a night off.”

“Poor Roomba,” said her mom, “its only purpose got taken away.”

“I’m really excited,” repeated Rory. 

“Is he staying the night?”

“Well, I haven’t decided one hundred percent,” said Rory, “but, probably, yes. I mean, if he wants to stay here, that is. I’m not going to coerce him or anything.”

“No means no,” her mother reminded her. Rory laughed and, in a cautious tone she said, “I hope you two have a nice time.”

“Thanks, Mom.”


	2. Chapter 2

It made her happy. She spent all weekend studying and eating mallomars. She did her laundry with quarters bought off Paris and washed her sheets, because maybe it would come up. She did all her work for her Thursday classes. If his visit went well she might not be able to concentrate on Wednesday. If it went really, really well he might still been in her bed on Wednesday. The test went swimmingly, so swimmingly that she actually thought of the word swimmingly. 

She thought of calling Jess’ cell phone to check in but as she walked through the quad, back toward her apartment, she saw him. He was sat on a bench with an open paperback. “Wow, it’s a blast from the past.” He looked up with a smile, “Hey, Jess.” He was so handsome. Sometimes, when she pictured him in her mind’s eye, she thought that she romanticized him. No one could be as handsome as Jess. It was impossible for anyone to be that good-looking. She felt butterflies, like she was a teenager again. She hadn’t felt exactly this happy to see him since they’d been truly together, before he’d come with the book, come to ask her to run away, shouted that he loved her, moved to California. Wanting to kiss him, she just smiled.

“Rory Gilmore, who'd've thunk I would run into you here,” he said with a grin. She felt her smile getting wider. “How was the test?”

“Great, fun. Otto von Bismarck came up twice,” she said.

“Well, with a mustache like that,” he shrugged. He stood, putting his book in his back pocket. She hugged him close and he hugged her back. He stroked her hair and it was a long, nice hug. 

“Coffee or lunch?” asked Rory, pulling back.

“Coffee,” said Jess.

“Then we’re going this way,” she said pointing and taking his arm. 

He nodded, “Always stick with a Gilmore if you want the good coffee.”

Rory couldn’t think of anything to say, then they got to a hole in the sidewalk. It was surrounded by caution tape and Rory started to laugh. Jess joined her, and Rory moved her hand from his arm and tangled her fingers with his. “It took two days of Dean scrubbing and two weeks of rain to fully wash that outline away.”

“It took me three hours: I chalked each layer and then set each one with Aqua Net. It was eight layers of chalk and hair spray,” he said. 

“You never half assed a prank,” said Rory.

“If you want to do it, do it right. I never meant for Luke to get in trouble.”

“No, just freak Taylor out,” agreed Rory, knowing Jess had never been malicious with Luke.

“Yeah, and the cops doing a head count to double check there hadn’t been a murder?” he laughed again, “I tell ya: three hours well spent.”

“So, what were you reading when you were on the bench?”

“Breakfast at the Victory.”

“Carse?” asked Rory, “Do you like it?”

“Less than when I was fifteen,” Jess shrugged. “Philosophers teach you to think. Once you can think, they can be pretty on the nose.” She laughed as she got into the line at the kiosk. “Good coffee?”

“Best in New Haven,” Rory promised.

“You look good, Gilmore,” he said, smiling at her. 

“I’m happy you came,” said Rory. 

“Me too,” said Jess. He squeezed her hand gently. 

At the front of the line Rory said, “Two large black coffees and two French crullers, please.” She paid before Jess could reach for his wallet. 

He said nothing about her paying too fast just said, “That is too much coffee,” as he was handed the twenty-two ounce cup.

“I’ll finish yours if you can’t man up and do it.”

“That’s offensive,” said Jess.

“I always forget you’re such a dyed in the wool feminist,” said Rory.

“Call me Betty Friedan,” he agreed.

With the weather finally nice, it was pleasant to sit outside. They settled onto a bench. Someone had put a little snowman on the ground next to the bench and she smiled, “It’s a sort of weird tradition. People make snowmen and put them in their freezer. Then on a day when it’s warm, you put it out in the sun. Paris and I have ours still waiting. We want to put ours out a few days before graduation. Honestly? It’s so much fun, I’m going to keep doing it when I move away from New Haven.”

Jess looked at it and said, “Did they give you the prize or did that guy with the professional snowman win?”

“We got the brand new set of quarters from the U.S. mint,” she said. “Thanks to you, we got the top prize.”

“Good, I put a lot of effort into destroying that nice snowman. It was really well made and very solid,” he said. 

She laughed, “You always put effort into your hoodlumism.”

He smiled easily, “You really wanted to win.”

“So how’s work? I want to hear everything.”

Jess was explaining about a horrible slam poet and Rory was laughing at his pain when a guy wearing a stupid costume came over, “M’lady, Rory.”

“Stop,” said Rory. “Stop,” she repeated. “Tell him to stop. Tell Logan that I’m sick of the messages, the gifts, the spectacles. Tell him that this is harassment and if he doesn’t stop, I will press charges. This is harassment. Tell Logan to leave me alone.”

Jess blinked, “And tell him that Jess from Out of Town says ‘hi.’” Rory laughed then he said, “Wait, do you get tipped afterward? Do you report back?” The guy nodded. “I was a messenger, just a courier not an artistic one like you, I know people frequently stiff on the tip. When you tell him Jess from Out of Town is here, he might forget about it completely,” Jess fished his wallet out, and handed the guy a twenty dollar bill.

“Thanks, man,” said the guy.

“Maybe he will still tip you and there will be one winner in the situation,” said Rory.

“Did Logan show you a picture of Rory or something?” asked Jess, sounding genuinely interested in the answer. 

The guy shook his head, “No, when you date the coolest kid in school people tend to recognize you.”

Jess seemed to think about it and then said, “Am I the only one who finds it creepy that there are cool kids in college? It’s college, you should all be past this.”

“College is a lot like high school,” said Rory. 

“Except you were not cool in high school,” said Jess. To the guy he said, “Good luck with that rich dick.” Watching the guy walk away, Jess said, “Logan is still trying?”

“Very,” agreed Rory. “So, the slam poet has a stutter?” she prompted him to finish his story.

“And I don’t want to mock someone with a disability,” Jess shrugged, “but it really impacts the flow of his pattern and it’s just bad. He doesn’t overcome his disability, he highlights it.” Rory ate her cruller, trying not to laugh, “So, what’s your paper about that’s due on Friday?”

“It’s a rough draft,” Rory corrected, “and I finished it last night; I needed a break from studying for the test.”

“You wrote a paper to take a break from studying?” said Jess, smirk exactly where it always sat on his face. 

“It’s only a rough draft,” said Rory.

“I’m so glad that you’re still the same girl,” he sipped his coffee. “So what’s fun around here?”

“We’re going to the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library,” said Rory. 

“You know how to take a boy on a date,” said Jess. 

“I’ve never gone with anyone. No one else will go to a library for as long as I want,” she explained. She liked his use of the word “date,” it was a good word to hear coming out of his mouth. 

Jess smiled as he ate his cruller, “This will be good.” They went quiet as they drank their coffee. There were kids playing Frisbee and he said, “Isn’t Frisbee in the quad a little cliché?”

“‘Clichés can be quite fun. That's how they got to be clichés,’” said Rory.

“You’re quoting Alan Bennett now?” 

“If the shoe fits,” said Rory.

“I see what you’re doing, Gilmore. Can we please not start a cliché quoting game?” 

She sighed sadly, “I ran out of coffee.”

Jess held his cup out, “There’s four sips left; you may have them. It’s not that I’m not up to finishing it; I’m being beneficent.”

Rory took the cup with a smile, “You’re a good man.” Draining his cup she said, “Let’s go.” 

They spent the afternoon in the library, happily exploring together. Jess kept her hand in his. “I could spend weeks in this place,” said Jess. 

“We can come back tomorrow,” said Rory. Then, realizing she’d made the assumption aloud, she added quickly, “I mean, I don’t know when you have to get back to Philadelphia.”

“Am I staying the night?” asked Jess, studying her face. 

Rory felt her blush and looked down at one of the cases, “Well.”

“Wow, I did not expect you to still blush like that,” he said, pleased with himself. Rory shook her head and looked up, ready to defend herself. Jess leaned down and kissed her. It was slow and perfect and he ran one thumb down her cheek and slid a hand into her back pocket. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, leaning into him in front of the cases of historic manuscripts. “We’ll come back tomorrow,” he said the words with his lips brushing hers. 

Rory felt herself smile, “Okay.” She felt like she had to catch her breath. The physical aspect of their relationship had always been perfect.

“I deprived you of lunch,” said Jess, “I should make you dinner.”

“Well, I would never turn down a home cooked meal from someone who can cook,” she said, “but I meant to take you to the dining room. It’s fun and you did come for a tour of the best bits.”

“This is me and you, Gilmore, let’s do one dinner in the cafeteria and one at your apartment.”

“You know me too well.” They walked across the campus, still hand in hand, Rory pointing out different sights. Jess just listened, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. It felt better than good, it felt right. In the dining room she pulled out her card and said, “Me and a guest please.” The girl looked over whelmed. “New?” asked Rory.

“I’m training for the summer session,” the girl confirmed. 

“I loved this job: effort to pay ratio is great. You can read a book while doing it. Hit shift then FP and then swipe my card.” The girl did it and smiled, “Here’s a mnemonic: Shifts with guests are a flipping pain. You can change the ‘flipping’ if you like, I rarely swear, even in my head.”

The girl smiled, “Thanks. You have nine guest passes left.”

Rory nodded, “There’s no way I can use them all.” The girl handed her ID back and Rory said, “Thanks.” Past the girl, Rory picked up a tray and handed one to Jess. “This is an overeater’s paradise.” 

“Come the apocalypse and the famine, your metabolism means you will definitely be one of the first to die of starvation,” he observed, even as he started to pull a plate together for himself from the salad bar.

“True, and I won’t even leave a good corpse for the rest of you to eat,” she replied.

“Selfish of you,” he sniffed. She started down the line of cereals, getting the fractions perfect. Looking at her bowl as he lightly dressed his salad he said, “You’re a disgusting person.” Rory just laughed as he helped herself to a plate of crispy chicken strips — meant to be added to a salad — and a slice of pizza. “It’s going to be so sad when your metabolism slows and you die young from a mixture of type two diabetes complications and heart disease.” Rory laughed again. 

“Sometimes you sound just like your uncle.”

“There are worse people to sound like,” he shrugged as they sat down. They started to eat and fell quiet, too busy chewing and comfortable in each other’s presence. After a moment Rory pulled her compact copy of Barnaby Rudge. Jess smiled and pulled out Breakfast at the Victory. They opened their books and read as they ate. “I’ve missed you,” said Jess after a few minutes. 

Rory didn’t reply, just smiled at her book. Five minutes later, they were still reading and eating, when some guy stopped by the table and said, “Excuse me?” Rory and Jess looked up from their books, the guy was looking at Jess and said, “Did you go to Amus High in Nashville?”

“No,” said Jess slowly. “I grew up in Central Harlem and I went to Democracy Prep Charter High. Then I moved to Connecticut and went to Stars Hollow High.” 

“I’m sure I know you from somewhere,” said the guy.

“I worked at Dante’s Inferno in Venice Beach; it’s the most famous hot dog stand on the boardwalk,” said Jess, offering an option. 

The guy shook his head, “No, never been there.”

“Then I don’t know,” Jess shrugged, “sorry.” He held out his hand, “Jess Mariano.”

“You wrote The Subsect,” said the guy sounding excited. 

“I did,” said Jess with a nod, “Only about fifteen hundred people know that. Way more people would know me from Dante’s Inferno.”

“I love that book,” said the guy. “I recognized you from the author picture. It should be on high school reading lists.”

“Nah, I don’t want forming minds to hate me. I’d rather get on the banned book list.” Jess shrugged, “Doubleday is picking it up for its third printing to give it a wide release. We’re still in negotiations. I want Truncheon Books and me to get the best deal; I want to set the precedent. While Doubleday is doing the media blitz, Truncheon will put out my second book. We want it to coincide. It’s going to have a first run of one thousand books, then probably another thousand and then we’ll sell it on, most likely to Doubleday again.”

“Wait: Doubleday and a second book?” said Rory, grinning. “We’ve been together for five hours, when were you going to tell me?”

“While I was cooking you dinner,” said Jess, “then we came here.”

“Jess, that’s awesome. First you were a real live author now you’re a real live successful author,” her face almost hurt from grinning. 

“Proud?” asked Jess, small smile on his face.

“Proud to know you; I don’t really get to be proud of you. This is all you. No one gets credit but you,” she was beaming. 

He gave her another small smile, “It’s mostly just sheer dumb luck,” he assured her. 

“You suck at taking compliments and credit. You wouldn’t take credit for fixing the toaster, or creating the special omelet or organizing Luke’s uncle’s funeral,” she said and he half nodded. “You never take credit for good stuff.”

Looking at the guy Jess said, “I’m glad you liked it, man.”

“It was nice to meet you,” said the guy.

“You too,” Jess said. The guy walked away and Jess said, “You’re eating with a celebrity.”

“Don’t joke, Jess: it’s awesome. I get to say I know a successful author,” said Rory, before taking another bite of her cereal. 

Jess smiled, “It’s pretty exciting. I don’t get enough of a say over the new cover though.”

“But your book gets two covers,” said Rory. Jess rolled his eyes and opened his book. They finished eating but Rory couldn’t stop smiling. “Come on, there are a few more spots on campus I want you to see.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, I want you to see the other libraries,” Rory led him outside. On the way to the door she heard the word “subsect” and smiled. Gossip got around fast. She’d like it if people knew that there was a real live author on campus not at a reading or a signing, just walking around.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the evening was perfect. She pretended to go into tour guide mode. She kept one hand in his the whole time. After two hours, and seeing every single library on campus, Jess said, “Matriculation must be easy when you’re surrounded by this. I’m so pleased for you, Ror, this place is perfect for you. I would have liked to have just hidden in these buildings for four years. Now, let’s hit a market: I’m making you homemade mac and cheese.”

“You’re thinking ahead and preemptively bribing Paris,” said Rory.

“Caught me,” he said. “My car’s this way,” he pointed. He led her to the public parking lot. There he unlocked a Ford Fiesta. 

Rory looked at the gray car and smiled, “You really are the coolest person I know.”

“Oh yeah? Fiestas are in, huh?”

“No, but everyone else would be stupid enough to care,” she said.

“It was cheap, great gas mileage, it’s safe, you can park it anywhere in a city and you can fit a surprising amount of stuff in the back.”

“And the color?” asked Rory, already thinking she knew the answer.

“It’s what the guy had on the lot,” he confirmed. “It gets me where I need to go. I call it my new car because I was the first person to own it, but I’ve had it for over a year now.”

“Coolest person I know,” she repeated.

“Buckle up,” he said, sliding into the driver’s side. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t need you to take the wheel.”

“That’s not funny,” she said, but she was smiling. She directed him to the supermarket and he made a joke about how he was pleased she at least knew where raw food lived, even if she never used it. 

In the market he said, “Do you have anything in your fridge?”

“Milk for cereal. There are Pop-Tarts, the snowman and burritos in the freezer.” There was something else too, but she didn’t want to say, it might not even come up.

“Frozen Pop-Tarts?”

“Don’t tell me you’re never had a frozen Pop-Tart,” said Rory, “that is tragic.” She trailed after him in the supermarket, down the aisles as he selected too much stuff, “How much are you buying?”

“I may be intending on cooking too much so that when your finals start in two weeks, you eat something good for you,” he said.

“God, it’s like Luke without the hat and plaid,” said Rory.

“Still not upset about the comparison,” he shook his head.

It was fun, easy to talk to him. She was happy to be with him. Even a supermarket seemed better with him there. And it was fast, he seemed to have a plan in his head, a mental shopping list only a person who actually cooked would make. There were herbs and things in the cart and Rory said, “Keep in mind, we’re graduating in a few weeks. Paris and I don’t need a whole spice rack to throw away.”

“That’s okay: I’ll take them home with me. I need oregano anyway.”

“Sometimes you say things and I don’t recognize you,” she joked. 

“Face blindness affects two point five percent of the world’s population,” he replied. “You shouldn’t make jokes; it’s a very serious malady.”

“And then you say something like that,” she continued. 

They left with too many bags, all of which fit into the back of the surprisingly roomy hatchback. She gave him directions on the way back and said, “You can park behind me. You’ll block me in and I promise I won’t have you towed. I’m the Prius.”

“Of course you are.”

“My grandparents gave it to me when I graduated,” she said.

“Mighty kind of them,” said Jess parking behind her.

Inside, she led him up the stairs and said, “We cleaned.”

“Wow, I’m calling the paper,” he said sarcastically and then said, “Your room was always clean. It was the rest of the house that wasn’t.”

“When I’m homesick I like to look in my fridge and see that there’s no food there and run a finger over the stovetop to see the line I make in the dust.”

“How homesick can you get when you’re there every weekend?”

“It’s usually Wednesday night,” she admitted as she unlocked the door. She called, “Paris, we’re home.”

“Hey,” called Paris. She came out of her room and looked Jess up and down. “Mariano, good to see you.”

“Paris, a pleasure, as always,” he said. “I can’t remember: were we at a hugging level when we left off? I always held you in such high regards that I don’t recall.” She came to him and they hugged. Pulling back he said, “You look amazing.”

“You look like an adult,” she replied. 

He smiled and repeated, “You look amazing.” Doyle came out of Paris’ room and Jess said, “You must be Doyle; I’m Jess.” He reached out to shake Doyle’s hand.

“Hi,” said Doyle. 

It was bizarre to see Jess shaking someone’s hand. And he wasn’t faking it; he wasn’t on best behavior, he was just comfortable and shaking Doyle’s hand. Jess didn’t just look like an adult; he was a grownup. “I was just about to make mac and cheese for Rory and me, if you want to join us.”

“Mac and cheese?” said Paris.

“Yep,” said Jess.

“I love mac and cheese,” she repeated, happiness evident in her voice. Then she said in a more subdued tone, “We’re actually on our way out to a documentary about the Colorado River.” 

“We’d love to stay, thanks,” said Doyle.

“We’re supposed to go to the movies,” Paris said. 

“Yes, but you would like to do this and I am not threatened,” said Doyle. 

“I am not a threat,” agreed Jess. He started to get things together. “I’m also making you turkey burger patties, a veggie curry and some spaghetti sauce. I’m freezing it all; I’ll leave you detailed instructions on the fridge to ensure you two actually eat something real during finals.”

“It’s like the clock just rewound itself to spring of junior year of high school,” said Paris.

“Vegetable curry?” repeated Rory. “You’re going to ruin Indian food? This is because you prefer Thai and you want to poison me against Indian food.”

“No, you’ll like it,” said Jess. “I’m not putting tofu in it.” He started to organize things on the counter. “Mac and cheese will be done in an hour. If you want to stick around, you can watch the show: I’m going to put Gilmore to work. It will be the first and last time any of us see Ror do anything in a kitchen other than sit on the counter and drink coffee.”

“Sometimes I sit at the table,” Rory corrected him.

“Is Rory going to ruin the mac and cheese?” asked Paris.

“No, Rory is going to be in charge of stirring,” said Jess, then added, “with supervision.”

He started to chop, measure and boil, handing things to Rory to mix. Doyle and Paris did stick around to watch it. Jess asked Paris about her applications to grad school and, when her speech got to the fever pitch about how it was all going to fall apart, Rory said, “Things work out when you work hard. Jess’ first novel is being picked up by Doubleday for its third printing and his second one will be out soon.”

“Subsect is getting picked up?” asked Paris.

“You know the title?” asked Jess.

“I read it,” said Paris.

“Seriously?” asked Jess.

Paris nodded, “I even bought a copy. Rory wouldn’t let me borrow hers.”

“Wow, Paris Geller owns a copy of my book: I’m honored.” 

Rory handed him the bowl of turkey mix and Jess started to stir it. “I already did that,” said Rory.

“You did,” agreed Jess and kissed her briefly. There was an audible, shocked silence in the room from Paris and Doyle. “So, Paris, did you like it?”

“No,” said Paris, making Jess laugh as he started to form and wrap turkey patties. 

“What didn’t you like it?” asked Jess with a smile. He put the individually wrapped patties in a plastic freezer box. He handed it to Rory and started to write something.

Paris was listing off her problems with the book and said, “Are you listening?” as he wrote.

“Shockingly, I can write out instructions to cook burgers and listen to your critique all at once,” promised Jess. And when she got to her problems with the heroine, Jess said, “Nope, Adeline is off limits.” He started to boil rice. “I’m putting chicken stock in the rice. Don’t serve it to vegetarians.” He started to write out something else.

“Oh, come on,” said Paris, irritation evident. “Adeline’s a goody two-shoes, who is a know-it-all and too driven to be true. I mean, my God, get some perspective girl. And it’s not as though she’s flawless. She wears blinkers and she’s too guileless to the point of injuring those around her.”

“Adeline is off limits,” repeated Jess, there was a cold note. As he started to brown beef he said, “I’m serious, Paris, leave Adeline alone if you want mac and cheese. Shred anything you like but leave Adeline out of it.” Then he added, “Rory can you open this?” He held out a can and a can opener.

She nodded “Of course, what kind of an idiot can’t use a can opener?” she took them from him and instantly turned to Doyle. “Here, Doyle, you can be part of this.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jess moved her, with his hands on her hips, in front of the stove, “Keep stirring the meat.” He started adding things to the pan, “Keep stirring.” Once he was done he said, “Let that simmer.” She took a step back and he moved pans, putting that one onto the back burner and the curry on the front burner, “Stir the curry, please.” He turned the rice off and drained it. He sliced open a long loaf of bread and added butter, olive oil and garlic in it. Then he started in on the mac and cheese. 

“Do you want me to grate the cheddar?” asked Rory.

“No,” said Jess. “You will grate your knuckles off. Focus on the stirring. You’re supposed to be having fun helping me. You won’t have fun when you’re bleeding into dinner.” 

“Rory, don’t ruin the mac and cheese,” said Paris. Rory sighed and stirred the curry. 

He started in a white sauce and Rory asked, “Are you making a cream sauce too?” 

“No, it’s a béchamel for the base of the mac and cheese,” he said, he bumped his hip against hers, budging her gently out of the way to adjust temperature levels. He poured the rice into a big ceramic bowl to refill the pot and put on more water to boil. “Step back, please,” he put the bread into the oven and kept working next to her. He turned the heat off under the bolognese. He added pasta to the boiling water before adding the cheese to the white sauce, “Paris and Doyle, grab plates, please. We’re five minutes off of eating.” He turned off the curry. And said, “Rory, please stir the béchamel while I drain the pasta.” Moving to the sink, he emptied the water out and shook the macaroni in the colander. He reached around to add the pasta to the pan. “Fold that in.”

“Fold?” repeated Rory.

He nodded, “Why don’t you take care of the sodas instead?” He took over the folding. He poured it into a bowl and added parmesan, cheddar and mozzarella to the top. Then he pulled the bread from the oven and started to slice it. He brought them to the table and said, “There we go. And you have about twenty-four servings of curry, bolognese and burgers in your freezer — hopefully you’ll get through finals without starving.”

“The second time I ever met Jess,” said Paris, “Rory’s mom was out of town, Jess brought over a huge box of food from his uncle Luke’s diner. Luke didn’t want Rory to go hungry even though she had money and had already ordered Indian food. No one trusts Rory to eat. And that’s absurd: Rory never stops eating.”

“No,” said Rory, “Jess was lying. I thanked Luke for it the next day and he was so confused because he hadn’t sent it.”

Jess nodded, “It was a perfect plan except you weren’t supposed to be there, Paris, and you weren’t supposed to thank Luke, Rory.” He smiled at her and added, “That was a really fun night. So, Doyle, Paris is panicking over grad school, Rory is panicking over newspaper jobs, what are you panicking over?”

Doyle started to talk about what newspapers he had applied to. They ate together, enjoying the company and food. Arguments started up on books and Rory felt happy to her toes. She kept one hand on Jess’ knee and he had an arm draped along the back of her chair. Even when she was arguing with Jess, he kept smiling at her. Of course, Paris and Jess were most combative with each other. When dinner was over they all cleaned the dishes together and Doyle glanced at his watch, “We can make the last showing of the movie, Paris.”

“I really want to see this movie,” she said. “Hate to dine and ditch. Thank you for dinner, it was great seeing you, Jess.”

“I’m crashing on your couch,” he said.

“We’ll be quiet when we come in,” said Doyle.

“I can sleep through anything,” he said. “Turn the lights on, have a party, scream and throw stuff at each other; just don’t bump into the couch.” 

“Rory, can I have my red sweater back?” asked Paris. “It gets cold in that theater.”

“Sure,” agreed Rory and went into her room. Paris always thought she could be subtle, but she really couldn’t be. She also seemed completely unaware that her voice carried.

As Rory went through her drawers she listened to Paris. “I’m not saying she’s blameless, mistakes were made all around — I know you never came out unscathed — but it took her a year to date after you went to California. I know she’s hurt you, I know she’s no angel, but please don’t break my best friend.” Rory found the red sweater and picked up her earrings. She couldn’t hear Jess’ response and she wasn’t sure he even was speaking until she stepped into the room and saw that Jess was leaning in close to her, because Jess actually knew how to whisper. 

“Red sweater and your obsidian earrings, thanks for lending me them.”

“The worst part of moving is going to be halving my fashion resources,” said Paris, taking back her stuff.

“You’ll miss my clothes more than me,” Rory said with a melodramatic sigh. “Enjoy the movie.” Once they were gone, Rory sat down on the couch and Jess sat next to her, she said, “Paris doesn’t know how resonant her voice is. But you know how to talk quietly.” Jess opened his mouth. “You do not need to tell me, Jess. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” he said softly. 

“You’re sleeping on this couch?”

“If that’s what we decide,” he said. Then he shook his head, “The seventeen-year-old me would hate me for this,” he sighed. Taking a breath he said, “I can’t do casual, or one night, with you. I can’t have it be one last chapter in our story. I like having you in my life again and I can’t lose your friendship.”

She nodded and then moved, straddling his lap, “I don’t want one night,” she kissed him slowly. “That night you came here you said we were supposed to be together and that you’d always known. I think you were right, I think we are meant to be together. I’ve always loved you, Jess.” She stroked his cheek. “I think we’re like a story from the golden age of sci-fi, back when it was lit and not absurd.”

“Nineteen thirties through the sixties?” he asked.

She nodded, “We’re two characters, a few seconds out of sync, and for the first time ever our timelines lined up and we’re here together. I’m really happy that we’re finally in the same space time continuum.”

He smiled, putting one arm around her waist and a hand on her thigh, “What do you want for your life, Ror? Not your career, just your life. Where are you going? I need to know if I’m still chasing you.”

Rory thought, weighing her words, “When Lane got married she kept talking about making her home. If I do become the next Christiane Amanpour, I’m going to be traveling so much. There are so many clichés: home is where your heart is; home is where you park your family; home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. What I want — where I want my home to be — is wherever your books and my books live together on the same shelf. I’d be running toward you, not away.”

Jess stood, holding her ass, “Christiane Amanpour and Jamie Rubin have a kid and a happy life. If miles are the only thing between us — after everything we’ve been through, and all the years we’ve loved each other — we’re going to be just fine.” She kissed his neck as he walked into a bedroom, she paid no attention then he said, “I’m guessing this is Paris’.”

She looked up and saw Noam Chomsky looking at her. “Yeah, wrong bedroom.” He laughed and moved next door and Rory said, “Sorry for the twin bed, it gives me more space in my room.” She reached behind him to turn on the light and shut the door.

“It just means we’ll hold each other close all night,” he promised. She leaned back, legs still wrapped around his hips, with him still holding her up. With one hand on his shoulder, she unbuttoned his shirt.

“Are we going too fast?” she asked and he laughed. “Hey, no means no.”

“We’ve been going slow for six years,” he said. They kissed and she tugged at his belt as he put her down on the bed. He pulled off her t-shirt and kissed her slowly as he unclasped her bra. “I really thought I was never going to see you naked.” That made her laugh even as he pulled at her jeans.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t that hard to get each other naked and Rory felt this had been years in the offing. She and he were meant for one another and their bodies fit together perfectly. She’d never had many curves but her angles fit with his. The first woman, Lilith, was Adam’s equal — his true mate — he took against her. God created Eve as Adam’s subservient wife. Rory didn’t feel like Eve when Jess’ fingers were on her body and her mouth was nipping at his throat. Jess was her parallel, his angles filled her gaps so perfectly. It had never been like this. 

She knew she shouldn’t compare sex, it was rude and inappropriate but she couldn’t help it. Logan had wanted to possess her whereas Jess’ touches felt not like worship or reverence or possessive but instead like his fingers belonged. Logan had, after all, once said he wanted her to call him master and commander. It had been a joke but, also, it hadn’t been. Jess had never, and would never, want to master her. They were partners, through and through. 

Dean had always been too damn big, his body dwarfed hers and his desires had forced her to repress her own. He’d wanted all her time, attention, affection it had been exhausting and he had never viewed her as his equal but instead someone from whom to take. His love was selfish and too many times she’d given into him. Jess’ arms didn’t feel like a cage, his embrace was not a demand. They kissed, and touched, and held and everything felt right to her.

She shook in his arms, happy and feeling good. When they finally stilled, panting and holding each other close, Rory said, “The first time we kissed, it was amazing and you said, ‘Whatever else happens between us, at least we know that part works.’” She was resting on his chest, head on his shoulder, head tucked under his chin.

He laughed, “We’re meant to be together.”

“Yes,” she agreed. She breathed into his neck and moved back, leaning up. “We need a towel and a snack.”

“And they say romance is dead,” he replied. 

Rory laughed and got up and said, “I like cuddling without being damp and sticky.”

“And the snack?”

“I like food,” she shrugged into her robe. “Stay right there.”

“I don’t think my legs work,” he replied. 

She leaned over and kissed him, “I love you, Jess.”

“Rory, you’re the love of my life.”

Smiling she left and quickly cleaned up in the bathroom and brought a towel back to the room. She tossed it to Jess and went into the kitchen. She had been careful not to let him look into the freezer. She’d taken everything from his hands to freeze. Now, she scooped ice cream into cones and brought them back to bed. And when she opened the door he laughed and said, “So romance isn’t dead after all.” She handed him a cone and he said, “Mint chocolate chip, you remembered.”

“I remember everything,” said Rory. Rory sat, cross-legged on the bed. “I really like being able to add the visual of you naked to my pile of memories.” 

He laughed and licked his ice cream cone. “There is a bigger question I’m thinking of asking.”

“If AI ever becomes truly self-aware, should computers have human rights?” guessed Rory.

“Home is where your books and my books live together, right?” 

“Right,” said Rory.

“And is it where your wedding ring falls into the drain, and you freak out, and I laugh inappropriately, and you hit me, and it doesn’t hurt, and then I take the pipe apart and then call Luke when I can’t make the pipe watertight after I put it back together?” Rory blinked and Jess said, “Don’t answer. Write a pros and cons list, I’ll do it too. Do a full, honest one, we won’t last if there’s any poison left in old wounds, so list it all. And if mine’s right then I will ask your ring size and if yours is right you can tell me. And if we make the lists, and it turns out we’re not ready, your books and my books will still live together. We’ll revisit the question in five years?”

Rory nodded, “Okay, sounds like a plan. I’ve always enjoyed a good pros and cons list.”

“I know, I use them now. You showed me how useful they are.”

“Really? I schooled you in list making.”

“You were a good tutor: you even let me take ice cream breaks.” He licked his cone. She nibbled at the top of her cone and he said, “That’s going on the cons list: starts to eat the cone way too early in the process.”

Rory laughed. “Con: criticizes my eating style.” He laughed and leaned forward and kissed her. Her cell phone rang and she said, “Who is calling me? It’s almost midnight.”

“College kids,” said Jess, shrugging.

She looked at her phone, “It’s Mom.” She answered saying, “Is the house on fire?” Jess raised an eyebrow.

“No, can’t sleep, I wanted to hear about your day with Jess.”

“My day with Jess hasn’t ended,” she replied.

“What are you doing? A midnight movie?” guessed her mom.

“No, ice cream in bed. Can I call you tomorrow? I feel awkward talking with you when I’m naked.”

“I won’t even answer the phone to my mother when I’m naked,” her mom agreed. “Say ‘hi’ to Jess.” Before Rory could say anything her mother added, “Try not to spill any ice cream on the sheets, I’m sure they’re sticky enough already.”

Rory laughed in shock, “Mom, seriously: that’s just dirty.”

“Yep,” agreed her mother. 

“Night, Mom.” 

“Night, sweets.”

Hanging up Rory said, “Mom says ‘hi.’”

“Why did you tell her we were naked?”

Rory shrugged, “I tell Mom everything. I’m going tell her I’m moving to Philadelphia having spent one day there: she’s going to guess that we’ve gotten naked together.”

“You tell her everything?” he asked.

“Well, I’m not going to draw her diagrams or anything,” Rory licked ice cream off her fingers.

Jess finished his ice cream cone and then tugged her close to kiss her. She was sinking into the feeling of his mouth on hers, his tongue exploring her mouth when she felt him pluck her seven-eighths done cone from her fingers. Breaking the kiss he said, “It’s so sweet of you to give me your last bite.” He popped it into his mouth.

“You jerk,” she said.

“You telling your mom about it?”

“No, I’m coaxing her onto your team, telling her you stole my ice cream will not help my case.” She kissed him slowly. “We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“You telling your mom that?”

“Of course,” said Rory. “Once she’s on your team, I’ll probably tell her about my ice cream cone. I tell her everything. As for my sex life: flirtation to UTIs, I give her a pretty broad overview.”

“Did you have a long meaningful talk before you lost your virginity?” he asked jokingly. 

“I meant to but then things got out of hand and then my mom and I had a fight over it.”

“Lorelai Gilmore is against premarital sex?” he asked, eyes wide in mocking shock.

“Well, hypothetically, if someone says their marriage is over, can you sleep with them or is it cheating?”

“Were there papers or lawyers involved?” he asked and she shrugged. “Did he actually say, ‘I’m getting a divorce’?” she shook her head. “Was he wearing a ring?”

In a small voice she said the same thing she’d said to her mother all those years ago, “He took it off.” 

Her mother had reacted with anger, scorn, shock. All Jess said was, “Dean Forrester is a real piece of work. He got you all turned around and then cheated on his poor wife. She deserved better and you did too.”

“Yeah, afterwards, I heard Lindsay in the butchers, almost crying because she couldn’t cook and she wanted to cook him roast beef. She clearly wanted to save her marriage. I wrote him a letter, gave it to Mom to give it to him, and went to Europe with my grandmother. I said he was married and he needed to figure out his life,” Jess nodded. “After his divorce we got back together,” she started then she shook her head, “God, you don’t want to hear any of this. We’re naked, in bed and have promised each other the future: I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Rory,” Jess pulled her into his lap. “This is me, you can tell me anything. And, as for Dean,” he sighed, “only about twenty percent of my problem with him was that he was dating you. Most of it was the way he treated the person he was dating. He was domineering and dismissive. He hated the person he dated having friends. He hated when someone else had a crush on ‘his’ girl. And if he’d wanted to be pissed at me then that’s cool, but he took it out on you.”

“My mom was so disappointed in me,” said Rory. Jess sighed and Rory said, “What?”

He shook his head, “I don’t want you to think I’m insulting your mom, or trying to say something I’m not.” 

“Say anything,” said Rory.

“Oh, when they make a movie of our epic love story promise we won’t let them cast John Cusack as me,” said Jess with a laugh.

“Deal, but if they want to cast Ione Skye — circa 1989 — to play me, I’m fine with it.”

“So they need to go back in time and get the right version of her to play you?” he joked. 

“Yep, and we’re holding out for a huge payday: we’re not selling our love story for cheap, this is our big sell out.” She kissed him slowly and said, “Jess, I promise I won’t get pissed.”

“Your mother has led a very sheltered life. Her overbearing parents wanted to help her with you. They never exiled her; she chose to leave and she went to Stars Hollow and that nice quiet town embraced her and you. She thinks she’s a wild child with a past but really she went from a cold but well-meaning family to warm and insane community. She had a baby at sixteen but she also had an incredible support system. She looks at Dean — a boy who built you a car and held your hand for a long time before kissing you — and she sees a great guy. She looks at the way you lost your virginity and she thinks you both made a mistake. She’s wrong.” 

He tugged Rory more into his lap and she realized he was seeking comfort as he thought about the situation. She curled in closer to him, gently stroking his neck as he spoke, “You got played by a manipulative man. Maybe he was a great first boyfriend, but he isn’t a good man. I watched this, so many times, I understood him in a way that your mom doesn’t. He’s outside of her ken and she wouldn’t admit it but it’s true: his relationship with you when I got there was abusive in the extreme. I’ve seen it before, I’ve watched my mother date a Dean seven or eight times. He was sweet and kind and patient right up until he wasn’t, right? He was mean to you by the time I was on the scene and I’m sure it happened gradually — too gradually for you to notice. By the time I got there, he demanded all your time and attention, cajoled you into canceling plans with other people and guilted you for not being a slave for him. When he did things you wanted — like going to the book fair — he wanted you to ‘make it up to him.’ He acted like doing something that didn’t directly benefit him was a favor to you but was pissed when you didn’t want to sit through his softball games. He told you it was over with Lindsay, to the best of your knowledge he had never lied to you, and you believed him.” He took a deep breath, playing with her hair. 

“Your mother should not have blamed you for that. He manipulated you. Your mom sees too much of the kid he was to see the man he is. He had sex with you and then he went home to his wife. And his poor wife was there cooking for her man, because that’s what he wanted from his woman. He is a chauvinist who uses people. I can tell you two things right now. One: if you ever attempt to roast meat to try and please me, I am going to choke it down with a smile, because, when someone you love cooks for you, you just eat it and praise them. Two: someday, in the not too distant future, Dean Forrester will hit his partner and afterwards he will apologize and justify it in the same breath, ‘I’m so sorry, baby, but you know you shouldn’t talk to me when I’m in that mood;’ ‘I’m so sorry, baby, I just get angry when the football team doesn’t win;’ ‘I’m so sorry, baby, I had one too many drinks.’” 

“You really think so?” asked Rory.

“I’ve seen too many men groom my mother with that path of abuse to have any doubt in my mind about the Dean Forrester lurking under the surface. I could see it clearly in my mind at seventeen and, with what I’ve gleaned from you and Luke since I left, I have no doubt about it. Dean will end up beating his wife. And, at seventeen, the kid who watched his mom get hit too many times wanted to preemptively break all of Forrester’s teeth.” Rory stroked his back as he spoke he gave her a small smile. “And, yes, as you tell your mom everything, you can tell her that I said exactly what I said. I don’t care if she knows that I understand Dean in a way she never did.” 

Rory said, “The fact that you’re a feminist goes on the pros list.”

Jess laughed, “A feminist is someone who believes that women are the equals of men and should be treated as such. I really believe it to be an outmoded term. I think it should be replaced by the phrase ‘sane and logical person’ and its antonym should be ‘moron.’ I wasn’t a bad boyfriend in high school because I didn’t respect women, I was a bad boyfriend because I was a bad boyfriend.” Rory laughed and kissed him.

“Does a sane and logical person want to go for round two?”

“I really do,” he kissed her slowly. “You’re naked in my lap, it really makes round two really appealing.” She turned in his lap, straddling his hips and rubbing against him as they kissed. She bit his lip and moaned. “God, you’re hot,” he muttered against her mouth. They moved together and she was riding him, his head against her chest as she played with his hair. They were both groaning and kissing and Jess said, “We’re really good at this.” Rory laughed and bit his shoulder as she came. She kept moving with him but he pushed her back onto the bed and hovered over her and he rocked into her body. Stroking his back she pulled him down for a kiss. He came nipping at her ear. 

She drew patterns over his back and said, “Our life is going to be amazing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he said, teasing. 

“I deviled egged your car when I was seventeen,” she said and he laughed. 

“You jerk,” he said.

“Mom helped. We were both in a bad mood; you were dating Shane and Sherry had just thanked Mom for priming Dad to be a good father.”

“Jerk,” he replied. “This goes on the cons list.”

“Sorry,” said Rory.

“I worked at Walmart for that car, Ror,” he said. 

“It was a jerk move,” agreed Rory. “I promise to never deviled egg your car again.”

“If both our lists go well, my car will be half yours. If our lists aren’t perfect, it’ll still be common-law half yours.”

She laughed and kissed him slowly. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. 

“There’s this really cool little bookstore in town. We’ll go tomorrow and I’ll buy you a surprise.”

“That is really exciting,” he said it as a deadpan comment but he smiled and Rory knew it was a little exciting for him. He pulled away and reached for the towel, cleaning them both up. He got rid of the condom and said, “Where are we standing on kids?”

“Anywhere but on their fingers,” she replied. 

“I’m serious, it’s an important question for whether or not there are rings in our future.”

“Not in the next ten years,” said Rory. “I’d like kids but I need to have my career established first.”

He nodded, “Jimmy was such a loser; I know I’d be better than that. A potato would be a better dad than Jimmy. But I want to be an actually good dad and there for them and I couldn’t right now, until Truncheon Books can chug along by itself, I couldn’t be there for painting school play sets. Ten years sounds good.” Then he added, “And how do you feel about adoption?”

“I never thought you’d be the one bringing this up,” she said. “I never thought you would talk about painting the sets of a school play.”

“I’m not seventeen and really focused on getting you naked… largely because you’re already naked.”

She laughed, “Adoption?”

“What if your mom hadn’t been able to keep you?” he said. “The best part of my childhood was when I lived with Luke and I was seventeen at the time. If my mom had just handed me off as a baby… if we adopt we’d know that at least our kids got good parents.” 

Rory laughed and then kissed him, “Adoption sounds good, but if a surprise happens too that would be good,” she shrugged, “surprises happen.” 

He nodded, “You were a great surprise for your mom; my mom likes to call me an accident when she’s drunk.”

“Penicillin, the microwave, playdough, pacemakers and Jess Mariano,” said Rory, “lots of wonderful things are accidents.”

“Aspartame,” added Jess.

Rory shook her head, “Aspartame is disgusting.” 

“Lots of people would say I’m disgusting,” said Jess.

Rory kissed him slowly and said, “We know better. Adoption in ten years and then if we have a surprise we high-five, love our children all the same and move on?” 

“Perfect,” he agreed.

“We’re raising them godless, right?” she asked.

“Oh hell yeah,” said Jess. Rory yawned, “It’s late,” he pulled her close and she turned off the light.

“Are you going to be able to sleep? You’ve always had trouble when you couldn’t hear New York.”

“Yeah, Philly is actually louder than New York, which is great but I learned to sleep in Venice Beach — way too quiet — and you’ve tired me out.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, “Good?”

“Wonderful,” said Rory.

“Sorry I snore,” he kissed her cheek.

“S’okay, I’m a heavy sleeper.”


	5. Chapter 5

She woke up alone in bed and after a minute she smelled pancakes. She pulled on her robe went into the bathroom where she got ready for the morning but couldn’t be bothered to get dressed. She went out to the kitchen where Jess was wearing his jeans and nothing else in front of her stove. “Morning,” she said. 

Turning he said, “After breakfast will you go down to my car and grab clean underwear, please? I left my overnight bag in the car.”

“So you did pack an overnight bag?” asked Rory with a smile.

“A guy’s gotta hope.” 

“Are those pancakes from scratch?” asked Rory.

He nodded, “And I will take the rest of the flour and baking powder home with me so that you don’t hate me for giving you something to throw away after graduation.”

“You get me,” said Rory. 

“Y’know who taught me how to make pancakes?”

“You’re the best, Jess.”

“Are you sure Luke isn’t the best?” he joked.

“Luke is great for teaching you how to be the best and make me the best pancakes,” she kissed him slowly.

“I used your toothbrush.”

“Well, your mouth has been places in the last twenty-four hours,” said Rory.

He kissed her neck and whispered, “You taste amazing everywhere and I love every inch of you.” She felt herself blush. He laughed as he pulled back, “You’re beautiful when you blush. You have to budge back so I can flip the pancakes and not burn your breakfast.”

“Because if you burn breakfast I’ll never forgive you,” she agreed, jokingly. 

He flipped the three pancakes in the skillet and said, “Strangely you have maple syrup. Well, corn syrup.”

“It’s really good on toast,” said Rory.

“Your palate is disturbing,” Jess shook his head. He reached around her for a plate and handed it off with a kiss, “Round one.”

“Aww, you’re going to make me courses?”

“As long as we’re defining courses as being multiple plates of pancakes,” said Jess. 

“That’s how I always define courses,” said Rory with a nod.

“Interesting,” said Jess. 

Jess made another set of pancakes as she smothered hers in butter and syrup. He sat down next to her and ate his with Reddi-wip. “You judge my palate?”

“I’ve watched you swallow it right from the nozzle,” he replied.

“Well, yeah, but you live in a glasshouse,” she shrugged then she reached out and cut herself a bite of his.

“Hey,” Jess protested, “you have your own plate.”

“Mine doesn’t have Reddi-wip,” she shrugged.

“Have Reddi-wip as your second course,” he advised. She kissed him slowly, over their plates of pancakes. “What was that for?” he asked.

“Do I need a reason?” she replied. 

“No, you really don’t,” he hooked his foot around her chair leg and pulled her closer. “So, should we promise to finish our lists by next Tuesday?”

“Agreed,” said Rory.

“Will you have time with studying for finals?” he asked.

Nodding she said, “I need to take breaks, it’ll be fun: it’s daydreaming about a hot guy combined with list making. It joins two of my favorite things.” 

Jess made a second round of pancakes but, when Doyle came out of the other bedroom, he gave him the three Rory was pretty sure he’d intended to eat himself. Rory ate her second round with whipped cream. Jess got to eat his second round á la mode. Then Paris was up and Jess made her pancakes too. 

Rory couldn’t see Paris’ face but she must have given him a look because Jess said, “Why am I getting the Geller Glare?”

“She has never been that loud before,” said Paris. 

Shrugging, Jess said, “I’m not going to apologize for making Rory scream, at least not in that context. I’m taking it as a compliment.” As he placed the pancakes on the table, he put up his hand and Rory gave him a high-five. 

After breakfast Rory took a flat cardboard box out of the cupboard and quickly folded it into a usable shape. She started to collect up books she knew she wasn’t going to need for the next month and wrapped the few knickknacks she had in the living room. “What are you doing?” asked Paris.

“Well, I’m moving in with Jess after graduation and I need to get his overnight bag out of his car, so I figured I would save myself one trip and pack some of my stuff that’s gotta go to Philadelphia.”

“The Gilmore women really turn laziness into an art form, don’t you?” said Jess.

“Exercise is the enemy, Jess,” Rory replied.

Doyle nodded, “After four years, I’m still amazed.”

“You’re moving to Philadelphia?” asked Paris, ignoring the rest of it.

“Yeah, you went to a movie while I made life decisions,” Rory shrugged. “Every job I’ve applied for is either really travel intensive or I will be filing electronically. So I’m moving to Philadelphia.” Paris just stared at her, “We knew we were going to have to break the band up. I will never be more than a text or phone call away. You need me, you know I’ll be there. And if you need a place to stay in Philadelphia, you can have our couch.”

“Philadelphia?” repeated Paris. “Together?”

“How was that documentary?” asked Jess, “Didn’t Exxon fund it?” 

“You have to take it with a grain of salt but it’s interesting,” said Doyle. 

“Jess, do not try to change the subject,” said Paris. “Doyle, don’t let him change the subject.” 

“You got three options, Paris: happy and supportive; judgmental and unkind; confused and concerned but not displeased. Option number two is dangerous,” said Jess. 

“You just got back together and you’re going to get a love shack? Look, if this is what you want, okay, but this is crazy,” said Paris in her know-it-all, can’t-wait-to-say-I-told-you-so voice. 

“We were always going to end up here,” said Rory. “What are we going to do with all the furniture?”

“It belongs to you,” said Doyle. 

“It belongs to Grandma and I don’t like any of it… except for the ottoman and TV.”

“So, take the ottoman and TV and tell your grandmother you don’t have room for the rest of it in your den of iniquity,” said Paris. 

Jess laughed, “I’ve missed having you in my life, Paris. In your mind, my nice one bedroom apartment replete with a ‘breakfast nook’ morphs into a crack den with used needles on the floor, doesn’t it?” Then he added to Rory, “When you have a job and we know a real budget, we should get a two bedroom place, we need extra bookshelf space and a way for your mom not to sleep on the couch. Marrying our book collection is going to severely cut into our space.” 

Rory nodded and, when the box was heavy and full, she said, “I’ll get dressed and go down to your car.” 

“My savior. It’s in the back seat. We can fit four more boxes in the back of the car, maybe five, like I said: Fiestas fit a shocking amount.”

“A Fiesta?” asked Paris, “Not a vintage Morris Minor?”

“I needed something reliable in snow, but it warms me to know that you know my dream car,” said Jess putting a hand over his heart as though he was really touched. Rory went back into the bedroom and quickly dressed. “You want me to take the ottoman on the trip tonight or do you want it here until graduation?” asked Jess, looking at it. 

“Maybe this trip, I don’t know if I can be parted with five whole boxes of books: three and the ottoman might be more bearable.”

“Really? I had no idea you were attached to your books. I was planning on taking Howl with me,” he said. 

“That’s not funny,” she said.

“And your copies of Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead,” he added.

“Leave Ayn Rand alone,” she replied.

“The older I get, the less I understand your appreciation of Rand,” he replied. 

Rory sighed and slipped her feet into beaten up loafers. “Car keys?” she requested and he fished them out of his pocket and slid them into her back pocket. “Be back,” she promised.

Downstairs she put the box in the back before grabbing his overnight bag from the backseat. She brought it up and held it close to her chest, “Say Objectivism has some points or you aren’t getting clean socks.”

“Existence exists,” he said. “That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

Rory kissed him before handing off the bag, “Fair. Get dressed, we’ll hit the library. The light in there in the morning is gorgeous and it’s opening in twenty minutes.” She started packing up a second box as he went into the bedroom. She could hear the water running in the bathroom, Doyle had clearly gone to the shower.

Now alone, Paris studied her and asked “You’re really doing this?” 

“Really, Paris,” said Rory and she smiled, “all grown up now, it’s time for me and Jess to be me and Jess.” Paris gave her a look, “Paris, pretend for a second that we’re normal best friends, okay?” She nodded, “Well, then, I’m going to tell you some news and you’re going to pretend it’s the first time you’re hearing it, okay?” Paris nodded again. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing in my career life — like at all — but I got back together with Jess and I’m moving to Philadelphia.”

Paris smiled, “Wait as in your Jess, Jess?” her voice rising at the end, like a valley girl.

“My Jess,” confirmed Rory.

“Is he still dreamy with his stupid, weird mouth?” asked Paris, clasping her hands in front of her chest. 

“So dreamy,” agreed Rory. 

Jess opened the bedroom door and said, “Stupid, weird mouth?” he repeated. Rory kissed him, stroking his cheek and breaking away he said, “I’ll bring the ottoman down to the car; you two still need a minute.” She handed his car keys back and he picked up the ottoman.

Once he was gone Rory said, “So, new city; newish books.”

“And naked Jess,” added Paris. “You were screaming last night.”

Rory nodded, “Totally naked Jess… sorry about last night.”

“And he talked about ‘marrying’ your books. Your books are getting married!” she said still faking the girly act.

“We might be actually getting married,” said Rory.

Dropping the act, Paris said, “Wait, what?”

“Don’t freak out yet,” said Rory. She told Paris about the pros and cons lists and how both she and Jess were making them, about how it wasn’t definite. 

“Actually, that’s the first sane thing you’ve said. Okay,” she started to pace, classic Geller planning mode. “We can work with this. Your pros and cons lists have always worked well. Promise me, you’ll let me read your list.”

“Of course you can but you don’t get the final say.”

“Can I have a say in the creation of the list?” asked Paris. 

“You can suggest things but you have no authority to add or remove things,” she said. 

Then Jess was back, “You guys need more time?”

“Pros and cons lists,” said Paris. 

Jess nodded, “Do I get any points for being the one who came up with the idea of the pros and cons lists?” She hugged Jess. “I guess I do.”

“It just shows you’re not total idiots,” said Paris, releasing him. “I’m so relieved.” Paris reached for a newspaper and started wrapping the newspaper awards Rory had accumulated over the years. “We’ll finish this box and then you two can put it in the car and go to the library. Which one?”

“The Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library,” said Rory.

“Cool library,” said Paris.

“It’s great,” agreed Jess. He and Paris started going through the shelves, holding up books and Rory agreed or disagreed until they had two boxes full. “I think that’s all we can fit. That ottoman is deceptively large.”

“It’s a start,” said Rory. Saying goodbye to Paris, they headed down to the car. Once they’d packed the boxes into the car she said, “My complete OED is going home with you, which basically means I’ve moved.”

Jess kissed her, “This was what was supposed to happen.”

She leaned into him and said, “Growing up, reading fairytales, I never knew I could be so connected to someone. Then you wanted me to sneak out a window and it was all different. You looked at my books, accused me of being hooked on phonics, and nothing was ever the same.” She pulled his head down for a kiss and said, “Do you think we need to reinforce your floors for the weight of the books?”

“Nah, we’re skinny people. Our being thin makes up for owning a few books.”

“A few?”

“Well, it’s not the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, not yet anyway.” He took her hand and they walked over to campus, seeing a few more snowmen on the way. It felt good and when they passed Rory’s favorite bookstore they stopped inside. She picked up a copy of Canto General and Jess said, “Neruda?”

Rory nodded, “A gift to apologize for egging the car, but you can’t have it until I’ve added a few notes.”

Jess smirked, “Still a book tease,” he said and kissed her. “Can’t wait to read your thoughts on the Cantos II and XIII.”

At the front Rory paid and didn’t accept a bag, just slid it into her purse. They spent all morning and part of the afternoon in the library, eating in the café and talking about the scrolls and books they’d seen. 

As they finished Jess said, “I don’t want to go, but I need to head back. I have a breakfast meeting with Doubleday tomorrow and I have to move some art tonight. I’m sorry.” 

Rory just smiled, “Like I said to Paris: we’re adults. You need to go to work, I need to go to classes. But I’ll see you soon, right?”

“So soon, I want my copy of Neruda, Gilmore. You deviled egged my car,” he said it with a small smile. “I’ll call you when I’m home. I’ll tell you your OED made it there safely.” 

“It’s common-law half yours,” she said. They walked back, still talking about the library, holding hands and bumping hips. At the car she kissed him slowly and said, “Now go: you’re blocking me in.” Jess laughed and gave her one last small kiss before sliding into the car. She waved before he turned out of the lot, he put a hand out the window in response. 

Rory went upstairs. The apartment was empty and she flopped onto the couch with the landline. She dialed and the phone was answered with a perky, “Dragonfly Inn, this is Lorelai.”

“I didn’t realize the rush I was going to have when I saw him again. He was sitting on a bench reading and I felt like my chest was a vacuum and I couldn’t catch my breath but in the best way possible. And it was different, no boyfriends or girlfriends or emotional problems or desperation. It was meeting on this even playing field. It was exactly what it was always meant to be.”

“I’m sorry: who is this and how many rooms would you like to reserve?” asked her mother. 

“You really think you’re funny, don’t you?” asked Rory, smiling into the phone. 

“Did Jess give you cooties? Has it clouded your humor radar, because I’m hilarious,” her mom replied. 

“I have two classes Friday, but my first isn’t until eleven. I want to come home tomorrow night and give you all the details — blow by blow — over takeout from Al’s… and pie.”

“Okay, but go light on the blowing,” said her mom. “Don’t get me wrong: I want soup to nuts, but I don’t need to hear much about the nuts.”

“Will you ever grow up?” asked Rory.

“I don’t need to do that; you did it for both of us. Love you, sweets.”

“Love you too, Mom.” 

She pulled out her favorite note book and, using the edge of another book drew a line down the center of the page. She was an hour in when Paris and Doyle came in and Paris said, “I’ll order food, read over what you’ve got so far and put on The Clash?”

“Did you ever think, when we were sixteen, you’d be helping me decide if I was getting married?”

“You’re getting married?” asked Doyle. 

“No, that’s what she’s deciding,” said Paris. “You might want to go out,” she added, kissing him lightly. 

“Pizza,” said Rory, “And Chinese food.” 

They sat, talking and eating, Rory scribbling, until three in the morning. Jess had called when he got home, saying that he’d gotten the OED up the stairs without damaging it and Rory had said, “I’m very glad to hear that.”

“You sound distracted,” he had said. 

“I’m working on something,” she had replied, “I’m happy you’re home safely.”

“Uh-huh,” he had said knowingly. “Enjoy your list, say hey to Paris.” They’d hung up with promises of love.

Paris had said, “What about his stupid mouth?” 

Rory had thought about it, “You shouldn’t mock nerve damage. And anyway, that’s a pro for me. It’s very nibble-able.”

“That’s not a word,” Paris had said. 

“Compound word, move on,” instructed Rory. 

Now, ten hours later, she put down her pad and pen. “Huh,” said Paris. 

“Huh,” agreed Rory. “That’s fifty-two reasons I shouldn’t tell Jess my ring size yet.”

“And one hundred and thirty-seven reasons you should,” added Paris. “This might be the most exhaustive list of someone’s flaws and failures and someone’s good qualities and successes ever written.”

“I’m telling Jess my ring size,” said Rory.

And then Paris smiled, a real, full smile — the first since that morning, “You’re getting married. To this guy,” she tapped the page closest to her. “You’re getting married, Gilmore.” She half shouted it.

It wasn’t surprising, given the volume, that Doyle stumbled out of the bedroom, “Wha?” he said, dazed and still tying his robe.

“No fire, Doyle, my pros and cons list came out pros,” Rory explained. 

“Rory’s getting engaged,” added Paris, looking equal parts shocked and thrilled. 

“He’s making his own pros and cons list, Paris. His math might come out different,” Rory said. 

“Text him,” Doyle said, scrubbing his hands over his eyes.

“It’s past three in the morning. He has an important breakfast meeting,” said Rory.

“Text him,” repeated Doyle. 

Rory looked at him and then took out her phone texting him simply, “Are you awake? Probably not, you have the Doubleday meeting. Good luck in the morning.” “He’s going to be asleep,” she said to her friends.

“No, he isn’t,” said Doyle. “For a smart girl, you can be really dumb.” Her phone started to ring and he said, “Paris, we’re going to bed.”

“But,” Paris started. 

“No,” he said firmly and started to tug her toward their bedroom. 

Rory answered the phone and went into her room, “Did I wake you?” she asked. 

“Sometimes I think I could have gotten through high school if they hadn’t given out the syllabus on the first day. I never could wait for the rest of the class to catch up. Deadlines are for suckers who dally on their way to the good bit.”

“Dally?” repeated Rory.

“Dally,” he agreed. “We gave each other a deadline of Tuesday. What’s your ring size, Rory?”

“It’s a five and a quarter,” she said. She heard his breathe out and she felt herself relax too. Then she felt the smile spreading over her face. “So, show your work: cons to pros?”

She could hear his smile as he said, “Sixty-four cons, one hundred and forty-eight pros, you?”

“Fifty-two over one thirty-seven,” said Rory. 

“I am offended that I have more of both as you had Paris helping,” he joked. 

“Paris and I disagree on the pro verses con aspects at times,” she replied. 

“I love you, Rory.”

“I love you too, Jess.”

“I have this stupid meeting in the morning,” he started to explain.

“It’s not stupid. It’s your book. Be a grownup, put the list aside and go smile to yourself with your eyes shut until you fall asleep.”

“Love you,” he repeated. 

“Five and a quarter,” she repeated. 

“I’ll remember. You’re not the only one who remembers everything.”

“Jess?” she asked. 

“Hm?” he asked, clearly flagging, so much excitement and worry. This was years in the making and it was exhausting. 

“Is there a reason Adeline is off limits?”

“She has sixty-four cons to her name, but I’m the only one allowed to call her out on it,” he replied. 

“Bump my pros count to one thirty-eight,” she replied and he laughed. “Sleep well.”

“Night, Ror,” he said, before hanging up. 

In the living room she collected up the papers with her list and at the bottom of the pros column she wrote, “He wrote me as his heroine.” She settled into her bed after that and turned off the light, she thought of her upcoming evening with her mother, she thought of Friday night dinner and telling her grandparents and she thought of Jess, writing her a list in his apartment almost two hundred miles away. 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please consider commenting or giving it kudos!


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